Hear Me
by Priestess of the Myrmidon
Summary: All right, I'll attempt to write a summary. Basically a oneshot where Tristan's lover remembers different memories, good and bad, spent with him. And as stated in my other summaries, I suck at summaries...just RR. Please... TOC Duh!


Title: Hear Me

Rating: PG-13

Summary: All right, I'll attempt to write a summary. Basically a one-shot where Tristan's lover remembers different memories, good and bad, spent with him. And as stated in my other summaries, I suck at summaries...just RR. Please... small MS warning. Not too bad.

Genre: Romance/Angst

Pairing: Tristan/OC

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it, unless I wrote it and it's not from the movie. I am not so cracked in the head as to believe I do. If you think that and wish to sue me, I suggest you take a long walk off of a short pier.

**And the name 'Adrina' belongs to Jennifer Fallon... as does the 'I do not screech,' line from Adrina. Couldn't resist.**

**Also... I could not think of a way for Adrina and Tristan to meet. And so... the Tristan almost riding them down gist belongs to Elizabeth Haydon. Not the dialouge, however. That part's dialouge is mine incept for the idea of three lines. Nothing is quoted exactly... to my memory, as I haven't read the book for months.**

**The song belongs to Kelly Clarkson, or whoever wrote it. I could never write a song like that... I suck at it.**

And I used some of the script from Fallen Knights... I haven't seen the movie for ages. I don't have good memory. It's a very good script. If you need it, you should use it.

**A/N**: Uhh... I don't have one. Wait, yes I do! Ummm... you guys know the drill, italicized in paragraph thoughts or emphasis. "" speech.

**A/N2**: Tristan does talk a little too much. And Adrina is MSish. Just warning y'all in case you have an intense hatred of slight MSish characters.

**A/N3**: I did not make up the tribe names... they are genuine Sarmatian tribe names.

**Without further I do, I present to you the work of a couple months...**

* * *

**_  
You gotta be out there  
You gotta be somewhere  
Wherever you are  
I'm waiting?  
Cause there are these nights when  
I sing myself to sleep  
And I'm hoping my dreams bring  
You close to me  
Are you listening?_**

A strangled gasp of horror escaped Adrina's lips as she realized that the rapidly approachig rider was going to run the children down. They didn't see the rider, and when they did, it was going to be too late. Much too late. She threw herself in the way, crouching down and protecting her head with her hands, knowing the rider would stop. Hopefully.

But then again, she didn't know, considering he probably would have run down the children. The man who'd almost run her down swore vilely as he quickly tugged on the reins of his grey horse.

"Gods damn it, you bloody woman!" he snarled. "I'd run you down right where you stand if I knew it wouldn't harm my horse." She met the man's burning brown eyes levelly.

"Oh and what about those children? What if they couldn't get out of the way? What would happen to them?" He glared down at her, almost wearing look of extreme amusement at her spunk.

"You see, woman, in my past experience children generally, if they are not suicidal, run out of the way of a charging horse. But should they not get out of the way in time, objects that small generally wouldn't harm the horse. I should have kept that in mind for you." Adrina was not the tallest of people.

"You are such a disgusting bastard." She drew a small knife she kept in her boot, leaving her sword strapped to her back.

Tristan's draw almost dropped to the ground. Almost. Where was the girl's brain? He drew his sword in return.

"You're wasting my time," he said calmly. "And I don't have any time to waste on this."

"Good," she returned just as levelly.

"So move."

Several other knights then rode up.

"Making a new friend, I see, Tristan," said a handsome knight. He turned to her. "What's your name, lovely lady?"

"I'll give it to you when I want to. And flattery won't work." The knights chuckled. She had a spine to her, that girl, whover she was, no matter how unwise drawing a knife on Tristan was, not that she knew who he was, however. Besides, Tristan had a way with annoying people. It was one of his many talents in life. Another man spoke.

"Shows she has extremely good taste, eh, _Lancey_?" said one of the men in a mocking tone. The man said 'Lancey' in a sickeningly sweet, high pitched voice. The knights laughed. "Lancey" scowled at his companion.

"Shut it, Galahad!" 'Galahad' pulled what was supposed to be a sad and pitiable face, and sniffed; he failed miserabley, whatever his goal was. Despite the situation, Adrina almost laughed. The man who she assumed was their commander shot them a glare and the knights almost withered under his gaze.

"May I have your name, Lady?"

"If I may recieve yours, Good Sir."

"Artorius Castus. And you are...?" Oh _shit_! Brilliant, just oh so bloody brilliant of her to insult his knights. She swallowed her nervousness.

Tristan almost smirked when he saw her gulp after Arthur revealed his name to her.

"Greatings Artorius. I'm Adrina."

"Adrina," said Arthur, testing it on his tongue. His gaze hardened. "What were you doing drawing a weapon onone of my knights?"

Before she could answer him, Tristan spoke up quietly. "She almost lamed my horse, jumping in front of me as I was heading back."

"Way to tell the whole story," Adrina said sarcasticly. "Actually, he was going to run down these children because they were in the way; I intervened."

One of the two big men chuckled.

"You've done it now, Tristan. Dag's gonna kill ye."

"Is that true?" demanded Arthur.

"Yes. If you must know, there's a band of about forty Saxons coming this way and they'll be here before nightfall. But this bloody-"

"Yes, yes, I heard you." Arthur cut him off hastily. He turned to Adrina. "My men and I must leave. I suggest you leave the area, too."

The man with long, blond hair urged his horse to move besides Arthur's, and then spoke to Arthur quietly and quickly. Then: "Can you fight?"

"No. I just happen to have a sword I stole and a knife to threaten a knight with in hopes he'll believe I actually know how to use it. Honestly, Sir Knight, what do you think the answer is?" She answered her own question. "Yes I can fight. Why ever do you think I would draw a knife on him?"

"Because you're stupid," he replied cheerfully.

"Why thank you, Sir Knight" she said sarcasticlly, grinning up at him. She liked the man. He had a sense of humor, and he was nice.

"Enough, you two. Bors, Dagonet. Evacuate the village. Tell them to hide in the forest." The knight who had almost run her down, Tristan, her mind supplied, rolled his eyes. Obviously, he didn't see the need to save the villagers.

She tapped the man with long hair on the shoulder. He had dismounted. "Excuse me, Sir Knight?"

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me me the names of your companions?"

"I'm Gawain." She nodded. "The one who almost killed you is Tristan."

"Now really, Gawain? I would never have guessed it," she drawled. He shrugged.

"You never know; you were stupid enough to draw a knife on him." Adrina coughed impatiently. "The one who called Lancelot," he pointed to one of the men with dark, unruly hair, "'Lancey' is Galahad." He gestured to the other man with dark and curly hair. "You met Arthur. That bald one is Bors." She smiled at Bors in greeting and her returned it. "The other big one is Dagonet." She smiled at him, and he too, returned it. "And the one that looks kind of like Galahad is Gareth." She nodded, trying to remember it all. She beamed happily at Gawain.

All the knights seemed to be in cheerful, despite the fact a battle loomed. And Adrina was itching for a fight too, it was also in her blood; she was half Sarmatian. The only one of the knights who seemed a little uncomfortable was the one they called Galahad. He seemed younger than the rest.

"Thank you." He nodded in return.

"I think we'll get along just fine, don't you, Adrina?" He slung an arm around her shoulder and she laughed. "All right. Time to prepare for battle." She didn't move in the least. He looked at her. "Don't you have armor?" She shook her head.

"Couldn't afford it."

"You are such a bloody idiot! You're roaming with absolutely no armor!"

"I know," she replied with a grin."Many people say I'm stupid, and that's just the least of it; I've been called much worse."Gawain sighed.

"Come with me. I think all of us have some spare armor."

"I'm fine. Fought like this my whole life. I'm fine." Gawain rolled his eyes, but relented. Adrina moved to the tree where she'd tied her horse.

After the village had been evacuated, the knights and Adrina prepared for battle. "Please don't tell me we have to use a bow," she pleaded with Gawain.

"Something tells me you can't use one for your life. Some Sarmatian you are. If you can't use one, why do you have one?"

"Actually I'm half Sarmatian... and half Roman," she spat out the last word. "Perhaps that's why I can't use a bow well... I never said I was terrible with it, I just can't hit the center of a target. And how'd you know I'm Sarmatian, my tatoos don't show, do they?"

"No they don't. It's your accent... and your hair style. Your tribe didn't happen to be near Tristan's, did it?"

"Why would you ask?"

"Your hair."

"What!" She looked at the scouts hair. "As soon as this battle's over, these braids are coming out." Galahad, Gareth and Gawain chuckled.

"Please tell me she is never going to scout. I think even _Bors_," (he spoke the name with a mock shudder,) "would be a better scout." The knights laughed. And then they could hear the drums.

The men and Adrina gathered their bows and arrows. A half an hour passed and the knights and Adrina waited restessly, as her horse fidgited impatiently. The Saxons were finally in sight.

The band of them lined up, showing their ranks, Adrina presumed.

"Tristan, Bors." The two knights drew back their strings, and let go. With a cry, two Saxons in the back ranks dropped dead. Then, after a signal from Arthur, all the knights and Adrina loosed their arrows.

"Heads," said Adrina, "Crossbows," as she spotted some Saxons with crossbows, aiming. Bors, Dagonet, Tristan, and Arthur shot the four bowmen. As they did, the Saxons charged. No ranks, no order, just a wild charge.

"Prepare for combat!" cried Arthur. She could hear the knights draw their weopons, as did she. She glanced over.

All the knights were on their horses, as the warhorses were weapons themselves, able to kill or maim any enemy stupid enough to come in range.

Arthur wielded his Roman short sword, Bors some strange device on his hands, Gawain a small axe, Lancelot his two swords, Galahad some type of sword almost like Arthur's but longer, Dagonet his axe, Gareth a sword a bit bigger that Arthur's Roman one, and Tristan, his curved, long sword, a variation of the one Adrina used. Bracing themselves, they waited for the Saxons to meet them.

A big brute decided to fight Adrina first. She blocked his swing, and deftly turned and flicked her wrist, slicing his wrist open. He howled with pain as blood gushed out of the mortal wound. Adrina kicked him in his groin just for pure pleasure, and then moved on.

Out of the corner of her eye, Adrina watched with amazement as the knights fought. They were... amazing. And though she didn't want to admit it, Tristan was by far the best of them all; he was graceful and he was deadly. Quickly turning her attention back to the fight, she realized she was fighting another huge man. She just attracted them. Brilliant!

The only good thing with fighting these bigger men is that generally they were slower. And stupid. At least the big Saxons were. The man had little training, gave no air of confidence, and because of it, he was extremely easy for her to kill.

Then she found herself engaged with a more worthy opponent. Not one who like to be on the defensive, Adrina lunged at him. Narrowly avoiding losing his sword arm to her sword, he jumped out of the way, and swung back. She blocked it, and inwardly sighed. It was going to be a long fight.

She faked as if she were going to gut him, but switch directions at the last minute, landing a cut on the man's arm. He recovered impossible fast, and swung at her; she barely had time to block the blow that should have decapitated her.

"Behind you!" came Galahad's voice. "Duck!"

"Huh?" she shouted, but ducked anyways. A sword wistled where her head had been. "Oh," she muttered to herself, feeling incrediblely silly, but she had not time to think such thoughts.

Adrina jabbed behind her and quickly pulled the sword out, just parrying the thrust aimed at her midsection. "Thanks!" she called, as she swung at the man's head. As he went to block it, she twisted a bit, and adjusted the swing, cutting his head cleanly from his shoulders, warm blood splattering itself on her face. Adrina grimaced at the feel.

As the adrenaline wore of, she began feeling a stinging sentaion that spread across her neck from below her chin to her right collar bone . Keep in her sword in her right hand, and at ready, she reached her left hand up to examine it. A shallow gash ran across it. She withdrew her hand and saw blood, her own blood. The wound didn't seem too bad, and she moved her attention away from it.

All around her the fight was clearing up. Tristan had a pile of bodies that looked like there was about ten in it. Galahad, Gareth and Gawain had a smaller pile near them. From what she could see, Gawain looked like he was enjoying himself, with the blood of his enemies on him.

Bors and Dagonet had their own private collection of bodies. From what she could see, the men mostly worked in pairs. Lancelot and Arthur were near each other too. Tristan was the only one that worked alone, and despite that fact he had the biggest pile of bodies.

She turned her attention back to the Saxons. "Adrina!" she heard someone call, realizing it was probably a warning that a Saxon was near, and whipped her head from side to side, trying to see where the Saxon was, but it was too late. She felt the sword enter her side, and she collapsed, blood rushing out, adding to the other blood on and around her. She passed out from the pain.

Lancelot killed the last Saxon standing; the one who'd stabbed the girl. Lancelot sheathed a sword, and then bent over, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but she was rapidly losing blood.

* * *

"What do we do now?" Lancelot asked the rest of the knights as Dagonet finished bandaging her, and cleaning the cut on her neck.. 

"I say we leave her here to rot; she'll just slow us down," Tristan commented. The knights exchanged grins, and Gawain spoke up.

"Well I like her. You haven't scared the shit out of her, Tristan, and she hasn't fallen at Lancelot's feet yet. I say we bring her back to Hadrian's Wall." Gawain put in his word and Galahad nodded in agreement. "Besides, she can fight." Arthur sighed.

"And I don't want it on my concience, leaving her here. Tristan, you take her. You ride the fastest, so if she will indeed slow you down, you'll ride at our pace." The knights grinned. "Besides, I don't need you to scout for a while."

Damn damn damn damn damn. It was a conspiracy.

Needless to say, Tristan wasn't happy when the knights decided to give him the wounded Adrina. I'm dumping her off into the mud when they're not looking, he decided.

It had been a long day for the scout, and when they stopped for the night, he was relieved. He left Adrina with Gawain, and settled down on a felled tree to sharpen his knife.

"You know, you shouldn't be up and wandering yet," Tristan said quietly, not even bothering to cast a glance over his shoulder, when he heard the snapping of twigs from behind him.

"Why thank you for your concern," she said sarcastically. "I didn't realize you cared in the least."

"I don't," he replied in his quiet manner. She huffed.

"You're such a god's bedamned, nasty, cold, evil man!" Adrina ranted.

"Such a nasty mouth for a lady. And thank you for your description." He still hadn't looked up from his work.

"Bite me, you bloody, damned, unbelievable, dirty bastard!" Adrina snapped.

"Wouldn't want want to catch anything that you carry," he replied cooly, finally looking up to meet her angry gaze.

"Why you little-" a long string of insult proceeded that, as she lunged for him. Adrina cried out, for her action had opened her wound. Lancelot sauntered over. He took in the scene before him.

Blood was seeping through Adrina's shirt and she was glaring fiercely at the scout, as if staring hostilely at him would somehow make the man drop dead. Tristan was sitting there calm and collected, sharpening his knife. What had he done now?

"My, my, my... What do we have here?"

"I... hate... that... bloody... bastard."

"Good to hear," Lancelot said. "In the mean while, you might want to see Dagonet for your side."

"I will. After I find the others. I refuse to ride on the same horse as him, let alone spend more time in his company." When she had come to on the same horse as Tristan was on, the rest of the ride had been far from peaceful.

"Gawain is with Galahad and Gareth."

"Thanks." She rose and then walked to where she hoped the two men were. They were easy enough to find, because of their loud laughter. "Gawain?" she whispered. She saw Galahad nudge Gawain, and point to her.

"Adrina?" Gareth stood there silently, just observing, watching them converse.

"Can I ride with one of you three? I can't stand Tristan." The three friends grinned.

"Sure. You'll ride with me," put in Galahad, cutting in before Gawain could answer.

"Thanks." Adrina turned around and found an area to sleep, and did not see the glare that Gawain sent Galahad, and Gareth shaking with silent mirth.

**_Hear me I'm crying out  
I'm ready now  
Turn my world upside down  
Find me  
I'm lost inside the crowd  
It's getting loud  
I need you to see  
I'm screaming for you to please  
Hear me...hear me... hear me _**

**_Can you hear me?_**

**_hear me  
_**

"You bloody witch! You damn _harpy_! You... you..." he snarled at her, at loss for words as she stared straight ahead, trying to keep the smirk off her face. While the scout had been sleeping, (and she still did not know how she'd acomplished this,) she had hacked off clumps of the scout's "precious" hair. What made his new hair style even more amusing was she had cut off only braids, leaving his hair disheveled and extremely uneven. Making him look ridiculously amusing.

Lancelot choked on his ale and coughed. Gawain and Gareth howled with laughter and Galahad snorted. Bors roared with laughter. Even Arthur and Dagonet had to smile at the expression on the man's face, and his hair. Perhaps bringing her back to Hadrian's Wall hadn't been a mistake. Tristan needed it, and it was no matter that he didn't admit it.

"Is something the matter, Tristan?" she asked in what she hoped to be a cold and uninterested tone of voice, not even moving from her position on the bench or turning her head.

"'Is something the _matter!_'" he demanded incredeously. Never before, except for a rare moment, had Tristan shown as much emotion as he was now, besides blood lust... and earlier in his life. He'd been happy then, and to be honest, Arthur didn't want to think about it.

"I could have sworn I just asked you that question. But I do thank you for your concern, however nothing is the matter." It turned out for Adrina it was a good thing she didn't turn around; she knew she'd laugh and give herself away.

"Bloody shit, woman!" he snapped, furiously trying to keep his voice level and calm; what made him even angrier is that he didn't succeed. "I can't believe you! Look at this!" He held up a braid of his severed hair. "What did you do?"

"I'm afraid she did nothing," said Lancelot, his face had returned to being passive. "In fact she was sitting with us, talking."

"Yes," chimed in Galahad. "She was with us." Tristan's eyes narrowed and impercemptively, Galahad gulped, wondering what he had just got himself into.

"Mark my words, Adrina, I'll get you." He stormed out. When he was out of sight, the group broke out laughing.

"How did you ever manage it?" asked a chuckling Gawain.

"I'm still trying to figure that one out. Thanks for saving my arse, you two."

"Think nothing of it," replied Lancelot. Galahad nodded, not taking the effort to say 'you're welcome.' "Just remember to look over you shoulder."

"He's such a girl, always worrying about his appearance subtlely." She grinned. "Unlike our Lancelot here, who's such a pretty boy, and always preening and worrying about how he looks for the ladies. And is not so... ahem... subtle about it."

"I know," Gawain said, pulling her into his lap.

"Hey! I do not 'preen,'" protested Lancelot. "That hurts."

"Gawain!" she said with a grin, ignoring Lancelot's protests. "Get your icky drunken, whatever else that's negative that you can describe hands with, off me!"

"Not a chance in the world, Adrina."

What scared Adrina was that nothing happened a week after she had cut parts of his hair off. Nothing happened for a whole week. Not that she was complaining, but it scared her. And when he finally took his revenge, well...

"**TRISTAN**!" she screamed furiously. "You bastard! You bloody pig!" Her shouts could be heard all throughout Hadrian's Wall. She came running into the tavern. "Have you seen him? I hate the gods bedamned scout," she declared loudly and angrily. "When I get my hands on that rat I'll...I'll... Argh!" The men could almost see her dreaming up tourtures for the man.

"Adrina. So nice to see you." The knights took one look at her purpling face (and her blue hair) and burst into laughter.

"It's. Not. Funny!" she ground out.

"Ahhh... but it is. By the way, will you please stop shrieking insults and vile things about what you'll do to Tristan; you're making my ears hurt. Actually all of our ears hurt. And Adrina, it's just Tristan getting his revenge." She glared at Galahad.

"First of all,_ I DO NOT SCREEH AND_-" she took a deep breath, realizing she would only prove Galahad right if she continued on without calming down. "I do not screech." There were coughs of disbelief from the knights, whom she sent fierce looks to. "Second, I thought you were on my side. Third, at least his hair was not so bright it hurt the eyes!" she grumbled.

"What is between you and Tristan?" Adrina cocked an eyebrow sarcastically.

"Besides the fact that he dyed by bloody hair _blue_? I want to kill the f-"

"The hostility between you two is so thick that it could be cut with a knife," Galahad said oh so happily. Adrina glared at him

"It looks more like there was a desire to kill the other." That was Lancelot.

"Or bed the other!" Gawain said with a not so subtle snigger. She glared at him."Or not?" he cowered. "Is there going to be a fight?" Gawain thendemanded.

"I think it'd be a pretty damn good one to watch!" Bors said rather happily.

"I'd bet on Tristan to win it," said Lancelot. Stupid pretty boy...

"My money's on Adrina," came Galahad's voice. She looked at him happily.

"How about they don't fight because they would probably kill each other?" said Gawain, quickly.

Adrina purposely ignored them.

She turned to the scout who she had just noticed. "All right, you won this one. How and when will this come out?" He was silent, as always. She repeated her question.

Finally, he said: "I didn't think to ask her. I don't know if it'll even come out." The knights, and Adrina were shocked. He never admited when he didn't know something.

"You **_WHAT_**!" Tristan had the decency to look sheepish.

"I can go find out?" he offered quietly. Of course there was no sorry. Tristan never appologised for all the 'misfortunes' that befell her, but it likewise with Adrina.

"Well that isn't bloody enough! I now have blue hair so bright it hurts the eyes, and you're telling me you don't know how or when, or if for that matter, it'll come out!" she ranted. The knights, (besides Tristan, for he always loved a fight, it was just his nature,) wisely moved away as they could see the fight brewing. Because now he was angry.

"Well you should have thought about it before you hacked of chunks of my hair and did a good job of making me angry." If looks could kill, Adrina would be one dead girl. But Tristan's voice was level and calm. Tears of pure anger and frustration sprang into her eyes. "Yes," he said. "Go and cry." That did it. She lunged at him.

Adrina threw a punch, but Tristan easily caught it. Tristan started to let her tire herself out. He only blocked her punches, he never returned them. Finally, she tired of that game and grabbed onto a handful of his brown hair and yanked. Hard. He grimaced, but caught her her hand, and squeezed it. Adrina could feel her bones grind against each other. She cried out, and racked her brain for something to do to him besides hit him, or pull on his hair. It didn't seem to be working.

A thought popped into her head, it was childish, yes, but it was something to inflict pain on him. Besides, childish didn't matter, their disputes were childish. Trying to ignore the fercious pain in her wrist, she managed to stomp on his foot. He ground his heel on her toes in return. Adrina yelped. She yanked harder on his hair, ignoring the pain that his hand was causing hers. With his other hand, he grabbed a some of her now blue hair and yanked on it in return.

She pulled on his, heedless of the lights that were flashing in her eyes because of his grip on her hair, even harder, so that his head went down with his hair. Tristan grunted.

Then, Tristan tiring of this "game," in a blur of movements so quick it was hard to catch, knocked her over and pinned her to the ground, his knees on either side of her waist, straddling her. His hair hung in Adrina's face and his breath tickled her face.

"Give up, girl. You won't best me. Surrender," he murmered into her ear, his lips scantly above it. Adrina almost shivered, and she probably would have, had she not been so angry with him. One of the knights wistled suggestively; it was probably Lancelot. Bloody bastard...

"Me?" She brought her knee up into his groin, and Tristan gave a sound suspicously like a yelp (which amused her greatly) in pain and released her. All male members in the audience winced in simpathy. She then, using her knee, shoved him over and pinned his arms down, her long hair dangling in both of their faces. "Give up? I never give up," she said.

He aknowleded it with a tilt of his head. "Low, and I'm surprised you had the guts to do it. But it won't happen again." Tristan slipped out of her grasp and shoved her over, once again pinning her down and besting her. "Now surrender."

"Hmm... didn't think you'd recover so quickly," Adrina replied with a vicious smirk, and a glare."Is there anything down there?" Her comment recieved a loud fit of laughter from the knights.

"Why don't you check?" Tristan said ignoring the laughter, and gave her a kiss on the cheek, just to infuriate her more. Quickly he tightened his hand around her wrist, preventing the slap he saw coming.

Adrina struggled fiercely against him.

Arthur strode forward. "Enough!" he bellowed, pulling them apart. Both were panting. Adrina's foot hurt like hell, and Tristan was sore in places he wasn't about to announce.

Tristan rose, and Adrina then followed. "As much as that was entertaining," he let a small flash of amusement through before he became commander again, "It needs to stop. You two are disrupting everybody. So I suggest you two say a sorry and leave it at that."

Arthur's voice gave an indication that saying sorry was not a suggestion, it was a direct order, and you'd be a fool not to listen to him. Adrina closed her smarting eyes for a brief second. She then crossed her arms.

"He's not going to say sorry, are you kidding me?" she asked. "I will if he does." Arthur glared at her, and she gulped, realizing she'd just overstepped her boundries. He then glared at Tristan.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. It didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were the tell tale sign of what his was genuinely feeling. She threw her hands up.

"Well of course he's going to say, 'I'm sorry!' I just said he wouldn't." The men hid smirks. Arthur stared pointedly at her. "Oh all right. I'm sorry!" she forced out.

She heard Galahad tell Lancelot. "Ha! I win."

She could justimagine the look Lancelot was giving the younger one."Are you kidding me, Tristan won!"

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!'

"Adrina won!"

"No,Tristanwon!"

"No, Adrina did!"

"Will you two shut _up_!" They looked at her sheepishly.After that, she muttered a faint: "You're such a bloody bastard, Tristan," in her native tongue.

"Harpy," Tristan replied in the exact same one.

"Pig!" she snapped.

"Bitch..." he replied levelly, meeting her eyes quite cooly.

"Drunkard." Tristan raised an eyebrow to that. Ooops... she hadn't meant to say that; it wasn't even near the truth.

"Cow."

"Bastard..."

"So I've heard. Look, there's no need to insult my mother." Adrina huffed.

"Ass..."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," she replied sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him. The knights roared with laughter.

**_I used to be scared of  
Letting someone in  
But it gets so lonely  
Being on my own  
With no one to talk to and  
No one to hold me  
I'm not always strong  
Oh I need you here_**

"Uhh... Mister Master at throwing daggers?" No response. "_Tristan_..." started Adrina, annoyed. "Oh Tristan..." She could not, for the life of her, get the stupid knife to hit the center. Perhaps he would know what she was doing wrong. "What am I-"

"Shut up." The scout held his hand up to keep her from talking even more. Galahad and Gareth smirked while Adrina sputtered indignantly.

She rolled her eyes at the man. "Just forget it. You're impossible. I don't think you've held an actual conversation in years."

Tristan shot Adrina a glance. The scout walked up to the target, and yanked his dagger out of the center, walking back to his position by Adrina, knowing exactly what she would have asked him.

He then aimed and threw it. It landed and made a faint thud, signaling that the knife had made contact with the target, hitting the edge of the inner circle. Tristan swore vilely and eyed the bloody thing furiously as if that look that he was giving the thing would somehow move that damn knife magically into the center. He never missed!

Adrina threw her knife into the center. Her first ever throw into the center. Her first ever throw near the center for that matter. And oh, the timing of it. She smiled smugly at the scout, who looked like he was about to kill something.

"You might want to try focusing, Tristan," she said. "It does help you hit the center." The two knights howled with laughter.

The girl was gloating, and the scout had a feeling that he would never, ever hear the end of it. He glanced up at the ceiling with a 'why me!' look and then grunted in reply. Adrina let out a sigh then just shrugged. At least she managed to make the bloody man produce a sound.

**_Are you listening? _**

**_Hear me I'm crying out  
I'm ready now  
Turn my world upside down  
Find me  
I'm lost inside the crowd  
It's getting loud  
I need you to see  
I'm screaming for you to please  
Hear me_**

"Tristan?" No reply. "_Tristan_?"

"Hmmm...?" He looked up.

"Do you want me to look at your shoulder?"

"It's a mere scratch."

"To hell with all the damn heroics, Tristan. That was kind of a rhetorical question, and you know it. I'm looking at your shoulder. Do you mind?" He shook his head slowly."All right, I need you to take off your shirt."

He complied. Tristan pulled it off, and Adrina didn't fail to notice that he tried to avoid it touching the wound. Now given everyone would do that, but Tristan wasn't very cautious with wounds, and that meant it was paining him a great deal.

She rolled her eyes at his stupidity. "Just out of curiousity, are you always this stupid? You're a bloody idiot!" she declared. He grunted in reply. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Adrina gently ran a finger over the wound and the area around it, testing how swollen it was. Tristan shivered.

Adrina gulped nervously, trying to block out all thoughts about how close they were. Her hands were shaking slightly.

She dipped a strip of cloth in the wooden bowl and dabbed it gently on the quickly healing wounds on his muscled forearm. "These are already closing up, but honestly, Tristan, why have you not gotten them dressed? You'll be no one any good with a nasty, infected wound." Tristan shrugged.

"Didn't want to bother Dagonet."

"You could've come to me." Tristan almost snorted. And here I was, thinking you hated me.

Adrina reached for a strip of dry cloth and wound it around his bicep several times before securing it gently. "There."

"You talk too much," the scout said. "There's no need to declare everything that's on your mind."

"Thank you. And nonsense! Since you don't talk much, I just do the talking you don't do!"

Adrina then laid a hand on his shoulder. Tristan stiffened, and she withdrew the offending hand.

"I'm sorry, I'll go." She turned around to flee, but was caught by the scout.

"Damn it!" he said, and she could not tell who it was he was adressing. "Do you know what you do to me?" Tristan knew exactly what he was feeling, and he didn't like it one bit. He was dead to all save his brother knights. He'd thought no one could do this to him besides Isolde. But she was long gone, and along with her had gone her heart. But she stirred something in him he thought long dead.

"I-" Adrina abrubtly cut off what she was saying.

"I believe," he murmered, "it is time to collect my bet."

Taking a huge risk, she leaned forewards and pressed her lips against his, instead of him. Taken a back for a moment, Tristan's eyes widened beneath his bangs. But then he deapened the kiss.

**_  
I'm restless and wild  
I fall but I try  
I need someone to understand  
(Can you hear me?)  
I'm lost in my thoughts  
And baby I've fought  
For all that I've got  
Can you hear me?  
_**

What a boring ride this was turning out to be. Boring and miserable. She _hated _rain! _Stupid, god damned bloody rain!_

"First to Hadrian's Wall wins." This time, Adrina intended to win.

"A bet!" cried Gareth. "A kiss to the winner from the loser!" he declared with a grin that almost looked evil.

"Wha-" Adrina glared at him. "That's not funny, Gareth."

"I'm not trying to be," he said sweetly.

Unbeknownst to the two, all the knights were trying to set them up. It was obvious to all but Tristan and Adrina of the others feelings. It caused daily frustration for the knights as week after week they could not succeed it bringing the two together.

"Damn..." she muttered. Well, if she won, she just wouldn't collect it.

"All right."

"Ready?" Bors roared. They glanced at him, and he shrugged. "It's gotta be flashy." Adrina rolled her eyes. "GO!"

Adrina took off heading straight down the road.

Behind her, the knights stiffled laughter. Tristan was going to cheat... they all knew that. There was a less known way through the forests that she didn't know about.

When Hadrian's Wall came into sight, she glanced behind her. No Tristan. Yes! She'd won!

Jols took her horse and looked her up and down with a raised eyebrow; she was shivering and dripping. Lovely...

"Tristan says to meet him in his room."

She stormed down the halls to his room.

"You _cheated_!" she snapped as he looked up from picking his fingernails with his knife.

"If you'd followed me then you would have known where to go." Tristan smirked, but she just glared at him, dripping onto the rug. She hoped she ruined his damn rug!"Later... you're wet and cold, and it'll be like kissing a fish."

"Hmph!"

**_Hear me I'm crying out  
I'm ready now  
Turn my world upside down  
Find me  
I'm lost inside the crowd  
It's getting loud  
I need you to see  
I'm screaming for you to please  
Hear me_**

"As promised – the Bishop's carriage," sighed Gawain.

"Our freedom, Bors," Galahad said.

"Mmm... I can almost taste it," he replied with a chuckle.

"Your passage to Rome, Arthur." Adrina wrinkled her nose in distaste to that. Bah! Rome.

"Woads!"

"Really, now Tristan?" Adrina asked. He said nothing, but stared at her blankly thru his bangs before shooting a near invisable Woad out of the trees.

Bor splashed into the water, waving his tongue and roaring profanities at the retreating men. "Ruuus!" Adrina poked him.

"Owowowow..." she muttered as she sucked on her finger. "Your damn armor is _hard._ That's not nice," she added, talking about his goading of the woads. He grinned predtorialy at her and shrugged.

"Too bad." He and Adrina walked up to the wagon, glancing inside, and saw a dead man inside of it.

The Bishop's aid kneeled under the carrige, muttering prayers to his god. Gawain stabbed his axe into the ground, and squated down. "Save your prayers, boy. Your God doesn't live here."

Arthur pointed his sword at the neck of a man who'd charged him, forcing him to his knees.

"Why did Merlin send you south of the wall?" Arthur demanded.

The woad warrior said something in his native tongue.

"Pick it up," Arthur said.

He recieved no response from the man.

"Pick it up," he repeated slowly.

The woad warrior slowly picked up his axe, and Arthur lowered his sword as the man fled.

"Bors."

"What a bloody mess." Adrina smirked happily, and laughed softly, earning herself a glare from the bishop's aide.

"That's not the bishop." She stopped laughing abruptly.

"Damn," she swore softly.

"God help us. What are they?" Adrina glanced at Gawain, and smothered a grin.

"Blue demons who eat Christians alive – you're not a Christian, are you!" He wagged a finger at the man. Adrina and Gawain chuckled.

"Does this... really work?" he mocked the man, clasping his hands together, as if he were praying, mumbling to himself. "Nothing... maybe I'm not doing it right...'

"Arthur! Arthur Castus. Your father's image. I haven't seen you since childhood." So that was the bishop.

"Bishop Germanius. Welcome to Britain. I see your military skills are still of use to you. Your device worked."

"Ancient tricks," he laughed, "for an ancient dog. And these are the brave Sarmatian knights we have heard so much of in Rome. I thought the Woads control the north of Hadrian's Wall."

"Coward," she muttered, and Arthur shot her a look, instantly silencing her. The bishop spotted her, and his mouth pursed together in a line of distaste. She smirked at him, giving a little wave.

"Hello," she said. Arthur glared at he again, and she shut up.

"They do, but they occasionally venture south. Rome's anticipated withdrawal from Britain has only increased their daring."

"Woads?" Stupid Roman man...

"British rebels who hate Rome." That was correct. And then she saw Galahad open his mouth. Shut up! said her eyes as she glared at him, knowing along the lines of what the young knight would say.

"Men who want their country back." Dear gods could he be anymore stupid? Adrina elbowed him.

"Shut up!" she hissed. Arthur's look said the same.

"Who leads them?"

"He's called Merlin. A dark magician, some say."

"Tristan, ride ahead and make sure the road is clear," Arthur told him. He turned his attention back to the Bishop. "Please do not worry, Bishop. We will protect you."

"I have no doubt, commander. No doubt..."

"Dozens don't worry me nearly so much as thousands," he muttered. Adrina chuckled as he was shut out of the carrige.

"Thousands?" said Lancelot.

"You know," said Adrina from atop her horse, "they can attack at any time." She winked at Lancelot who was riding next to her. "Sometimes they're called devil ghosts, and you can't see them 'til it's too late. Some say they eat people alive... but before that? They torture their viticims, cutting off a finger at a time... then the toes... then the hands, then the feet... the arms... the legs... They have ways of making their victims live for days, and days as they torture them. Did I forget to mention what the do to the eyes?"

"Shut up, you pagan!" the man cried, panic making his voice shrill.

"Dear me," she said, widening her eyes innocently. "Am I _scaring_ you?" she asked cheerfully. The man looked like he wanted to slap her.

"Devil ghosts?" Gawain shook his head while rolling his eyes in amusement. "He probably thought they were but tales to scare naughty children so they don't stray too far."

"I guess it works on a man like him, too." The knights laughed while Arthur shot her a glare.

"Well now that we're free men, I'm gonna drink 'till I can't piss straight," Bors declared when the wall was in sight.

"You do that every night."

"I never could piss straight. Too much of myself to handle. Down there.Well it's a problem! No really, it is. It's a problem.  
It's like-"

"A baby's arm holdin' an apple."

The knights laughed.

"I don't like it. Rome. He's here to discharge us, why doesn't he just give us our papers?"

"Is this your happy face?" Gawain asked with a chuckle. "Galahad, do you still not know the Romans? They don't scratch their asses without holding a ceremony."

"Why don't ye just kill him, and then discharge yourself after?"

"I don't kill for pleasure. Unlike some." He glanced pointedly at Tristan.

"Well, you should try it someday; you might get a taste for it."

"It's part of you. It's in yer blood. "

"N-no-no. No. As of tomorrow, this was all just a bad memory."

"Oh... "

'I've often thought what going home would mean after all this. What will I do?" Gawain said. "It's different for Galahad. I have been in this life longer than the other. So much for home – it's not so clear in my memory."

"Well, you speak for yerself- it's cold back there. And everybody I know is dead and buried. Besides, I have, I think, a dozen children."

"Eleven." Adrina laughed.

"You listen, when the Romans leave here, we'll have the run of all this place. I'll be... governor of my own village, and Dagonet will be my personal guard and royal ass-kisser, won't you, Dag?"

"Who would want to kiss your ass, Bors?" she asked him. He glared at her.

"First thing I will do when I get home is to find myself a beautiful Sarmatian woman to wed," announced Gawain.

"A beautiful Sarmatian woman? Why do you think we left in the first place?"

Bors made the sound cows made, and Adrina poked him in the side. "Well, you're not so pretty yourself, are you there, my _dear_?"

"Hey!" he exclaimed. Adrina rolled her eyes. "What about you, Lancelot? What are you plans for home?" Bors asked.

"Wait! Let me guess... I'll put lots of money on the table that he'll be at Gawain's house, seducing his wife." Lancelot gave her an amused smile; all of the knights but she knew who Gawain wanted as his wife.

"Well if this woman of Gawain's is as beautiful as he claims," going along with it, "I expect to be spending a lot of time at Gawain's house. His wife will welcome the company."

"I see. Then what will I be doing?" Gawain demanded.

"Wondering at your good fortune that all your children look like me," he replied. Bors laughed.

"Is that before or after I hit you with my axe?" he muttered. Bors laughed even harder.

Tristan whistled, and his hawk came soaring towards him. "Where you been, eh? Where you been?" Adrina rolled her eyes.

"For the love of the gods... why do you love that bedamned creature so?" He flashed her a rare smile, and she realized just how good of a mood he was in now that he was going to be freed.

"Jealous?" She snorted.

"Of that... _thing_?"

"What will you do, Arthur, when you return to your beloved Rome?"

"Give thanks to God that I survived to see it. "

"You and your God. You disturb me." Adrina smirked.

"I want peace, Lancelot. I've had enough. You should visit me."

"Tah." Like that was ever going to happen.

"It's a magnificent place, Rome. Ordered, civilized, advanced-"

"A breeding ground of arrogant fools?" Hmm... hereally did havea point.

"The greatest minds of all the land have come together in one sacred place to help make mankind free."

"...And the women?" Of course, typical Lancelot. Women, women, women.

* * *

"Welcome back, Arthur." 

"Jols."

"Lancelot," said Jols with a nod in his direction.

The knights dismounted.

"Bishop, please, my quarters have been made available to you."

"Ah, yes. I must rest." And all he done was sit in the bloody carrige! She hoped he was absolutely miserable his entire stay. Him getting a deadly disease was a good start. Hopefully it would rain the whole time, and he'd drown in the mud, ruining his clothes while he floundered.

Adrina snickered as Vanora slapped her lover. "Where've you been? I've been waiting for you!"

"Oh, my little fire... such passion." He kissed her. 'Where's my Gilly?" He picked up the boy. "Gilly. You've been fighting."

"Yes..." She and Tristan walked away.

"You," she said, "Are taking a bath." He crossed his arms as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Come now... I'm Sarmatian, too, and I've survived taking a bath! And you're bleeding, Tristan."

He poked his shirt, and then shrugged. "Not mine."

"You wouldn't even admit it if it were yours."

"Probably not." She rolled her eyes.

* * *

He glared at her, staring at the tub as if he could make it dissapear. 

"If you don't get in, I'll go find another bed to sleep in." Tristan undressed and sat down in the tub. He splashed water over his head, and scrubbed quickly. She rolled her eyes but said nothing. "Oh get out!" she said, as she slipped out of her armor. He did, rather happily too.

Tristan's eyes ran up her body, lingering at her stomach, which seemed to have added some to it. Adrina gulped as she realized that, and almost dived into the tub in her haste to get in. Now was not the time to tell him. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, as he slipped into his everyday armor.

After he was dressed, he sat on the bed, resting his chin in his hands.

* * *

The scout, as always, stood stoicly in his little corner of the room. Gawain threw his knife, and it actually hit the target, a great feat for Gawain. He laughed in victory. Galahad threw his knife, and it hit the center. Then he too began to laugh drunkenly. Gawain sputtered indignantly at his bad luck. Tristan stopped eating his apple for a moment and casually flicked his wrist. It speared the hilt of Galahad's knife. The two knights gaped at him. 

"Tristan-"

"How do you do that?" demanded Galahad. Tristan pointed at the target with his apple.

"I aim for the middle," he told them thru a mouthful of apple.

Gawain good-naturedly pulled Adrina into his lap. She slapped his shoulder playfully. "Gawain!" she exclaimed. "You drunken bastard." Tristan smirked.

"Get your hands off my woman!" he growled, and Adrina could see the laughter in his eyes. What she did not see is something else. The posessiveness in reaction Gawain's affection... and Gawain's affection was not that of a friend's...

It was the first time Tristan had spoken without being addressed in a handful of days. Adrina made absolutely no move to get off Gawain's lap, but Tristan didn't care. He could trust her. And Gawain, even when he was drunk.

She shifted her gaze to Vanora and Bors who were arguing. Again. The two never stopped arguing.

"Here please. Sing."

"No!" she protested.

"It's a last-"

"I'm trying to work-" He pushed her forward.

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" came Bors' voice. "Vanora," he paused, staring at his lover and mother of his eleven children, "will sing." Vanora laughed nervously, embarressed at all the attention she was recieving.

"What should I sing about?"

"Home," was the reply of the knights.

She began to sing, and her sweet voice filled the tavern.

"Land of bear and land of eagle  
Land that gave us birth and blessing  
Land that pulled us ever homewards  
We will go home across the mountains

We will go home  
We will go home  
We will go home across the mountains

We will go home, singing our song  
We will go home...

Hear our singing  
Hear our longing  
We will go home across the mountain

We will go home  
We will go home..."

Lancelot was blinking back tears as were all of the other knights, she noticed, Tristan excluded. The man rarely ever showed emotion.

"Arthur! Come join us!" Jols, finally noticing him, called out, breaking the trance that seemed to hold all the knights.

Arthur had a grim and serious face the exact oposite of his knights faces. Facing all of them, he took in a deep breath to calm himself.

"Knights. Brothers in arms. Your courage has been tested beyond all limits, but I must ask you now for one further trial," he said in a low voice.

"Drink," said Bors drinking from his invisable, non-existant bottle, and Galahad laughed.

"We must leave on a final mission for Rome before our freedom can be granted."

"Above the wall, there lies a Roman family in need of rescue. They are trapped by Saxons. Our orders are to secure their safety," the Roman commander continued.

"Let the Romans take care of their own." Bors face was now somber. It no longer held any humor, realizing now that his commander was deadly serious. Deadly indeed.

"Above the wall is Woad territory." Gawain pointed out, words slurred. Drunk.

"Our duty to Rome, if it ever was a duty, is done. Our pact with Rome is done." Galahad said with barely suppressed anger. She tugged on his shirt, not wanting to disturb the coversation, if it could be called that. Tristan turned around questioningly, pausing in the action of taking a bite out of his apple. She smiled sadly at him, and then started for Tristan's room, leaving the knights screaming angrily at each other.

"Every knight here has laid his life on the line for you. For you. And instead of freedom, you want more blood? Our blood! You think more of Roman blood than you do ours!" Bors' voice boomed fiercely above the noise in the tavern.

"Bors, these are our orders. We leave at first light and when we return, your freedom will be waiting for you. A freedom we can embrace with - " Arthur's words were cut short.

"I'm a free man! I choose my own fate!" The poor man's outburst was addressed to no one. No one maybe except himself. Or maybe Arthur. Adrina could hear a baby start to cry in the backround, as if it had somehow sensed the severity of the gathering.

"Yeah yeah, we're all going to die someday. If it's death by a Saxon hand that frightens you – stay home." Tristan spoke up quietly. This situation that they were going through, to him, seemed like a normal occurance, and honestly, it truly was. Very rarely did he show emotion. And predictably, the scout pretended not to care about all of this. He knew he could rely on his fighting skills.

"If you're so eager to die, you can die right here!" Galahad lunged at Tristan.

"Enough. Enough!" Lancelot bellowed, struggling for a moment to hold the furious Galahad off, while Tristan, calm and composed as always, took another bite from his apple, all the while staring at his fellow knight calmly. He had not moved an inch, which only seemed to make Galahad even angrier, if that were possible.

She'd always thought Galahad was a little rash and hot headed... but how would she feel if her promised freedom was denied to her? A freedom they had worked fifteen years for. And then being told you had to go on one last, dangerous, probably fatal mission. Adrina could hear them screaming in the tavern from the hall. It echoed loudly.

"I've got something to live for!" finished Galahad, ignoring Lancelot as if the older knight had never spoken. _So do I_, thought Tristan.

"The Romans have broken their word. We have the word of Arthur. That is good enough. I'll prepare. Bors, you coming?" Dagonet asked calmly, trying to break the tension.

"Of course, I'm coming! I can't let you go on your own; you'll all get killed!" he exclaimed furiously, storming off, muttering, "Vanora'll kill me," trying to get Arthur to see the stupididity of this mission. The unfairness of it.

They were free men! Free! By rights they should be holding their papers of safe conduct through Rome in their hands. Their freedom. But the bishop denied them it. That damned bishop was sending them on one last mission. One last stupid mission.

Tristan left quietly. He knew exactly where Adrina had gone. He opened the door and closed it quietly, not forgeting to lock it. She sat on the bed, and had pulled her knees to her chest. Tristan walked over to her.

"Tristan!" she choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks. He hugged her, murmring words of nosense that never the less calmed her down. Tristan had never been good at comforting or caring, but she had somehow pulled it out of him.

She never stopped to wonder at the fact he was talking so much. She would have realized that he, too, was worried. But he was worried for her, for there was no one to protect her should they all die. And Adrina worried for Tristan's life. Never before had she feared for her lover quite like this.

"It won't be all right!" she snapped at him. "Tell me, Tristan, how many Saxons are there? Hmmm? One thousand? Two thousand?" With a caloused thumb, he stroked away her tears.

Their lips met desperately. His rough beard tickling her. His hands carressed her. Adrina moaned, and her hands toyed with the laces of his breeches. Pausing, the scout kicked off his boots before she impatiently tugged on them. His hands, instead of returning to their prior activity, went to work on the laces of her dress. His lips carresed all the skin that was revealed by the crimson dress as it slipped over her shoulders, and down, the dress pausing in its decent for a second as it caught on her hips, and then finaly dropping to the floor.

He looked down to Adrina's face momentarily before he captured her lips again, before beginning to place butterfly-like kisses upon her neck. His lips sought lower and lower and his hands carressed her breasts.

Tristan bore her to the bed. In the moonlight their naked bodies melted together, blending with the deepening shades of the night.

* * *

Adrina woke up beside him. Tristan's brown hair, which he never seemed to brush, was spread out behind him. Sitting up, she gazed at her Sarmatian lover. She gently traced a scar on his arm that was from his shoulder to his elbow. The skin was pink and puffy, and because of that, Adrina knew it was recent. She then moved on to the strange blue tatoos on his cheeks that were still a mystery. 

Tristan then woke up. "I must go."

"So soon?" Then: "Do not go!" she pleaded desperately. "Stay here, with me!" She was being foolish, she knew, but...

"Hush," he said soothingly. "You know I must go."

"Yes, and almost certain death awaits you!"

"And if it does?" he demanded, and regreted saying that. His tounge was flapping loosely. He looked at the pained woman before him. The woman who'd torn down the walls he'd built around his heart, closing himself out from the care of anybody. "I did not mean it." Tristan was never one for apologies, and now was not the time he was going to start.

She had to say something, but she didn't want to make leaving any worse for him. But he read her eyes, as always.

"What's wrong?"

"Tristan...I-" she gulped nervously. "I'm-" she hesitated. "I'm pregnant with your child," Adrina blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for a reaction from him. "I'm sorry," she said.

He was completely still for a handful of moments, not comprehending, and she feared. She wanted a reaction from him. Anything. Joy, anger, sorrow. It didn't matter at the moment, she just wanted to know. And then she found herself crushed to him in an embrace so tight that she couldn't breathe

"A _baby_? My _child_…my baby," he whispered into her hair happily, which stunned Adrina. She hadn't really thought he loved children. But she'd been wrong, apparantlly. "I'll have a family! I'm going to be a father! Don't be sorry Adrina!" he exclaimed happily. It explained why she hadn't been drinking, and her slight weight gain. She laughed along with him, relieved.

"Yes, Silly." She looked up at him. "I love you," she whispered. "Know that."

"And I you, Adrina." Fiercely their lips met, for they could not know if it would be their last. She slipped out of bed, as did he and both silently began to dress. Adrina grabbed her armor and threw it on the bed. Then her weapons. She wanted to go, heedless of the danger to her child.

Tristan grabbed her hand. "Adrina, no."

"Why?"

"Because you're with child."

"SO!" she bellowed. "You can't control me!"

Oh gods He'd seen Vanora with all her mood swings. Tristan barely resisted the urge to groan and put his head in his hands. This was not going to go well.

"Adrina, please," he pleaded with her, as calmly as he could. "Stay here. I'll come back, I promise. Please, for the sake of our child."

"No," she said stubbornly, pulling her hand out of his, reaching for a knife. "I'm coming!"

"You're not. If I have to, I'll tie you to something to keep you here." Tristan was deadly serious, she knew. Adrina pouted.

"Fine!" she snapped angrily. "I hate you!" Tristan barely surpressed the dire need to roll his eyes at her.

She sulked as she followed him out the door, and sat next to him while he ate another apple.

When Arthur entered, Galahad rode circles around Arthur, trying to anger him. Trying to annoy him. Trying to make him lash out. Galahad was the most hot headed of the group of knights. Sadly, she watched Arthur's knights sit there placidly, except for Galahad, accepting that this could very well be their last time in these stables.

The Bishop walked in. Instantly, every back stiffened perceptively, including Adrina's because it was he who was sending them to a probable death. He began conversing with Arthur quietly.

Tristan wore a small smile on his lips, which raised an eyebrow or two from the knights, and garnered much curiosity. He was definately happy about something. But there was also a look of exasperation in his eyes.

Obviously Adrina hadn't taken to not being able to come very well. What also startled them was that Tristan was not letting Adrina come. Either he severely doubted this mission, or there was something else...

Adrina walked over to Gawain and planted a kiss on his cheek. "You'd better come back alive, or I won't let you have any peace in wherever you go when you die, and I'll kill you." Gawain grinned half-heartedly.

"I hope you'll use a bow." Adrina glared at him. Her lack of talent with a bow was amusing to the Sarmatian knights.

"Hey," whined Lancelot, trying to look insulted, "don't _I_ get a kiss?" With a small chuckle, she walk over and kissed the man on his cheek.

"The barmaids'll miss you if you don't come back," she whispered into his ear. Lancelot grinned, and she walked away.

Straining, she heard the end of the conversation, she listened to the bishop.

"Godspeed, as you fulfill your duty to Rome," he said, a grin on his face as if he thought it were funny. As if he hoped the knights would die. Adrina wanted to slap that silly and insulting grin off his face.

"My duty is also to my men," Arthur emphasized, glaring at the man.

"Then get them home," Germanius replied, his voice betraying that he did not care if Arthur was able to fulfill that part of the dangerous 'duty' or not.

She kissed him on the cheek, and whispered, "I love you."

They mouted up and rode off, with Adrina watching, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. It was almost too muh to bear. "Please," she whispered to whatever god was listening, "bring them home safely. Bring them home safely so that they may live to see the homes once more, for they have not seen them for fifteen years." She buried her head in her hands and prayed they would come back.

**_Hear me  
Hear me  
Hear me_**

Adrina had to know the outcome of the battle. Had to know if they had won. Had to know if Tristan and the others still lived. Heedless of the dangers, the girl ran to the battle field. Heedless of the fact Tristan would be furious with her. Just to be sure she could defend herself, (for what good could a knife truly do?) Adrina had grabbed her sword.

The fight was over. All around her were the strewn bodies of Saxons and Woads. No knights that she could see.

Then she spotted a kneeling Arthur and Guinivere, and horror and grief rose in her throat. She knew who it was instinctively; it was Lancelot. Poor Lancelot. He'd died for a cause he hadn't really believed in.

And then she spotted Gawain and Bors lifting a body. Oh gods! It had to be one of the other knights. It was either Tristan or Galahad. Either would be painful for her. Tristan more so, however.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her to them. She had to know! And as she got closer, she noticed Galahad by the two knights. "No!" she whispered disbelievingly to herself.

She rubbed her eyes. This was all a bad dream. That's what it was... a nightmare! It had to be.

Galahad noticed her, and tapped Gawain, pointing to her, and conversed with them. Quietly and quickly. With a grim nod he moved slightly, blocking her view. When she got within a handful of feet of him, he spoke.

"Adrina," started a nervous Galahad. He sighed; he had never been good at being the bearer of bad news. The knight tried to block her from going any farther. "You don't want to go there." He took in her crestfallen face. "Look, Adrina, I'm sorr-"

Gawain broke in. Bors and Gawain had put down their load. "Come here, Adrina," he said, and opened his arms. She flew into them. Galahad glared at Gawain, but said nothing.

"No!" she whispered into his chest, tears streaming down her face. Gawain wrapped his arms around her, and shifted slightly as her barely rounded belly pressed into his, and he was slightly confused, because she'd always been naturally slim and she didn't truly eat that much, so... it meant... He thought hard, trying to puzzle it out.

Gawain put all the clues together. The slightly rounding belly, Tristan laying his hand on it, her not drinking, her throwing up in the morning, her being moodier if that was humanely possible... everything added up and it dawned on him.

"Oh gods, Adrina, I'm so sorry!" His friend sobbed into his chest. Galahad looked questioningly at him, realizing something else besides the fact Tristan was dead was amiss, but Gawain shook his head slightly. Now was not the time to mention it. And besides, it was not his right to tell anyone. "Adrina, Adrina," he whispered into her hair, rubbing his hand soothingly on her back. She pulled back. Her brown, painfilled eyes met his.

Adrina had always known that this day was very likely to happen, and had tried to prepare herself, but no preperation could stop the pain. Make it all go away. But she could not make the pain vanish with a thought. She knew it would never stop. Dull, maybe, but it would never stop. "I want to see," she whispered into his chest, pulling away.

"Adrina, are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure!" she snapped, and dashed around him, avoiding Bors and Galahad.

Adrina was not prepared for the sight of him, no matter her battle experience. The wounds were ghastly. However, something looked familiar about those wounds, and she needed to find out what, because her curiousity was too great.

Upon close inspection, she realized the ghastly truth.He had been killed with his own sword. It must have been humiliating for Tristan. The Saxon who he had been fighting had probably picked it up. And then she looked at the ground, lots of grass was missing, trying to understand why it was like that.

He'd tried to get a little space, a little time for recovery, and Adrina didn't want to think it, but he had probably done it to live and in doing that... he'd crawled, like a wounded, hounded dog. That must have been the utter humiliation for him.

Perhaps it was for the best he had not lived, not that she didn't want him there with her. She just could not be too sure of the reaction from him because of it."Oh gods," she moaned, doubling over, clutching her stomach. Bile rose, and she leaned over, retching violently.

"What is it?" Galahad asked, worried as he heard the sounds of her throwing up. Surely it was bad, but Adrina had been in many a battle and had seen worse.

"She... she needs to tell you herself."

"What is it?"

"I told you she needs to tell you herself, you bloody idiot." And then Gawain wasn't there anymore. He was by Adrina, supporting her head as she threw up.

"You think any of the others know?" Galahad whispered, trying to figure out what the secret was. Bors shook his head.

"Thanks," she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she asked helplessly, "You know, don't you? And the others?"

"Yes," he replied. "I just figured out. But Arthur, Bors, Galahad and Guenevere don't know, only me." Adrina nodded, closing her eyes painfully, trying to block out all thoughts.

"Don't tell them," she whispered, barely audibley. "Please don't tell them."

"As you wish, Adrina." She leaned against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, trying to impart a little comfort.

"It's horrible," she whispered. "Did you know the Saxon killed him with his own sword." It wasn't a question.

Gawain's face displayed extreme horror. That would be humiliating for anyone of the knights... but for the proud Tristan?

Their weapons where one of their greatest pride... what they used to survive. they were generally very posessive of their weapons, and very meticulous with them. It was almost as if the knights trusted their weapons to help them survive. Tears streamed down her face.

Gawain's heart broke a little more. She was totally and utterly in love with Tristan. And she carried his child.

Bors watched the knight with Adrina. All but she knew about Gawain's love for her. Poor Gawain, loving fom afar. Wanting what he could not have.

Galaha looked on impassively, watching as his best friend's heart broke because of his love for his friend.

"Lancelot is dead, isn't he? she finally asked, pulling back. Gawain just nodded sadly. "Thank you for everything," she whispered to him. Gawain nodded again. He didn't want to think about it. What he needed was a drink. Being drunk was when he was truly happy. When he could forget about Gareth, and now Lancelot, and Dagonet, and Tristan, and the others. When he could forget Adrina loved loved Tristan.

Adrina walked over to Bos and Galahad, leaving Gawain to watch her.

"I'm sorry, Adrina," said Galahad.

"It's all right," she said, sniffing, tears still running freely. "You've nothing to be sorry about. It's not like you could have prevented it." Hanging her head, she slowly walked over to where Lancelot lay, the knights following her, Tristan's body on Bors' shoulder.

She looked at the dead Lancelot, then Tristan. _Freedom is they ever asked for! All they ever wanted was to see their home land again! WHY COULD THEY NOT HAVE IT!_ she thought angrily to whatever god or goddess that was up there... if there was one.

_**Can you hear me?**_

Adrina came running out of Hadrian's Wall, hair flying wildly behind her. She glanced amoung them, and quickly did a head count of the me. One was missing... she peered closer.

Dagonet was missing. Tears welled up in her eyes. Instantly, she dogded Gawain's horse, (who snorted almost indignantly,) to walk beside Bors. She laid a hand on his leg. "I'm sorry Bors." Dagonet had always been good to her. He had been a good man. But she didn't cry; she hadn't known him that well.

"Yeah, yeah, I am too," the big man muttered sadly. She patted his leg and then looked for Tristan. She flung herself on his horse, riding in front of him, and he wrapped his arms around her, laying a hand on her stomach, controlling his horse with his knees only.

"Adrina?" he said into her hair.

"Yes?"

"You shouldn't be on the horse." Adrina groaned.

"Oh bugger off! He's only trotting, if that. You're so protective. Bloody mother hen!" Tristan sighed, and then a tiny grin, which Adrina could not see, turned the corners of his mouth up. Tristan yanked on her hair. "Ow!" He yanked again. "Hey! Stop that!" Another yank. She slapped at the offending hand. "Will you bloody cut that out, you bastard?"

"No," he breathed into her ear. She shivered. Tristan yanked again.

"What is wrong with you!" They rode in and dismounted, and Adrina stood right behind Tristan.

"Ah!" came the hated Bishop's voice. "Good! Christ be praised! Against all the odds Satan could possi– Alecto! Let me see you! You have triumphed! Young Alecto! Let me see you! You are here!" Adrina watched with what could almost count as amusement, as Alecto backed away from him.

Adrina watched a boy dash out of a carrige to find one of the knights, she supposed.

A Woad girl shouted, "Lucan!" So Lucan was the boy's name.

"You! Boy! Stop!" shouted one of the Roman soldiers. Adrina quickly drew Tristan's sword from the sheath on his back and pointed it to the neck of one of the Roman soldiers.

"Give me a bloody good reason, Roman dog." She glanced over. Galahad had also drawn a dagger and pointed it at the soldier's neck, glaring with extreme hatred at any Roman in sight. The Roman backed away and she handed Tristan's sword back to him. He threw her a dirty look, but said nothing. He did not like it when somebody used, even touched,his weopons, even if it was Adrina.

The Woad girl to hold of the boy's shoulders, as a tear slid down his cheek. He took the ring on Dagonet's finger, and squeezed it in his hand. So he'd been looking for Dagonet.

"Great Knights. You are free now! Give me the papers. Come, come! Your papers of safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire! Take it, Arthur." He laughed nervously, fearing what the knights might do to him..

"Bishop Germanius. Friend of my father," said Arthur, and Adrina could not tell who he was talking to.

Lancelot took the papers from the box, and gave it to each of the knights.

"You are free. You can go!" the Bishop said nervously.

Bors stared at the paper in front of him, and a tear welled in his eye.

"Bors." He recieved no response from the knight. "Bors. For Dagonet."

"This doesn't make him a free man. He's already a free man!" He hurled the papers at the Bishop's feet. "He's DEAD!" he screamed at him angrily. Gawain walked up and kneeled down, picking up the paper. Adrina smirked as the Bishop backed up. Perhaps the man had some brains after all. It was not wise to get in the way of an angry knight. Not wise at all...

As Tristan inspected the box in one of the soldier's hand, Adrina spat at the bishop's feet and sneered at him. "That was for Dagonet. And that," she spat in his face, "if for all the other dead knights. The remaining knights smirked humorously at the bishop's disgusted face. Adrina stalked off.

Tristan caught up with her as she stormed down the road. "Well," he said, "that was amusing, just not the smartest thing in the world."

"And since when am I smart?" she demanded. The corners of Tristan's mouth turned upwards slightly.

"Good point."

**_Hear me  
Hear me  
Hear me_**

"So..." said Adrina, ploping herself down by the slightly drunken knight. "Who is this Isolde who made you go into your little shell?" At the mention of 'Isolde,' Adrina swore she could see panic and pain flare up in Tristan's eyes for a brief second. But whatever she saw was quickly gone, and blankness replaced it.

"Pardon?" Tristan pretended ignorance.

"Well, everybody says you used to be fun and like the rest of them."

"Well," he replied. "'Everybody' says too much." Ignorance wasn't working, so he dismissed her damn prying about Isolde.

"Who was she?"

"What is it to you?" Great job. _Would nothing work? Would that bloody woman stop prying into his past!_ Dismissing it didn't work either. Tristan had started having a conversation with himself. _Gods, that damn woman is driving me insane! I'm having a bloody conversation with myself!_

"You're not alone," she said. "I, too, had a dear lover who died. I never took you for a coward, Tristan."

"Who said anything about being scared? And about lovers?" Back to playing dumb. Unfortunately, Adrina wasn't buying one bit of it.

"Well, your eyes said you were scared." Tristan rolled his eyes to that. "And the rest of the knights said anything about a lover." Tristan looked at her in disbelief. "Oh, come now. Don't kill them. It took a couple of drinks to find out, but hey, here I am."

Tristan's lip curled up slightly, exposing teeth, reminding Adrina of the predator she thought he resembled. Feral, cold-blooded, living for the kill, lonely...

"_What's with Tristan?" _

_"Can't tell..." slurred Galahad. Adrina rolled her eyes._

_"Vanora? Will you bring us some more drinks?"_

_"Aye," sighed the woman. _

Adrina gave Galahad some more. "To freedom!" he said. Adrina raised an eyebrow,but said nothing.

_"To freedom," they echoed, and all but Adrina drained the ale._

_Many drinks later, she had an answer: Isolde._

_"Going to kiss him, are you?" She shrugged._

_"Maybe."_

_"Going to make-"_

_"Argh!" She lunged at him, covering his mouth with her hand._

_"Well..." he said, pullng away from her. "It's not bad if he wants it... you know-"_

_"Ugh!" she exclaimed."You've been tricking those barmaids into sleeping with you, haven't you?"_

_The knights laughed, and Lancelot pretended to sulk._

Tristan narrowed his eyes at her in exasperation.

"What's it to you?" he repeated.

"Well, Wolf-boy," (Tristan glared at her from beneath the curtain of his hair)... for starters if you were more pleasant to me that would be great. Second, I just want you to know, you aren't alone. Third, you're bloody sulking, and the knights want their old Tristan back." He glared at her, and if those looks were arrows, she'd have arrows sticking out of her in numerous different places. "You can't kill me with looks, Tristan dear." Tristan sighed, then looked down knowing he'd lost, and the way he'd treated her had been extreme... it was just that she so reminded him of her.

Adrina waited patiently, knowing he wouldn't talk if bugged.

"Our job was to escort her to her bethrothed... protect her from the Woads. The trip was long, about a month or so... After she got married, we met in secret... her land was only a couple hours of riding away, talking, and, well... Anyways, the rest of them kept guard... or scouted, call it what you please, helping us... Arthur was displeased, but lived with it, but they all knew.

"Her husband found out from somebody, and made sure we couldn't meet; we found ways to anyway. She was absolutely miserable; her husband was a coward, but he was cruel.

"One of the man's men intercepted one of our letters..." Tristan hesitated. "And over a year span his men intercepted all of our letters... but they sent me one that was "from" her... it said she hated me... that she didn't love me any more and if I came onto her land she'd drive me out herself... I couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it... but after that I never heard from her again.

"We were informed that he was going to try her for adultery and treason, and I got injured severely, trying to save her from certain death... He told her I was dead, taking another Sarmatian's body, and slashing the face up... put a ring like the one she gave to me on its hand, armor like mine, and she believed it; she killed herself hours later." His voice faltered and broke.

That was more than Tristan had spoke at once for months. Poor Tristan, she hadn't known. Sweet Gods... But she said nothing of the like, knowing it would only infuriate him.

Tristan was thankful she didn't tell him she was sorry for his loss; he hated when people did that.

_**Can you hear me?**_

_Two years later and I miss him terriblely. Like a pounding, throbing ache that just won't go away. I love him still._

_I lost our daughter to fever, a year and a half after she was born; Isolde for Tristan's dead lover. Strange, eh?_

_Do you know how it feels? The one thing, the only thing that kept me from hurling myself off Hadrian's Wall, the one thing that kept me sane, that was my reminder of Tristan, my only piece of Tristan, gone? It is like someone stabbed a knife through what remained of my heart. Dear gods it was horrible..._

_I believe there was a period when Arthur had declared that I was not to be allowed within five yards of a weapon, lest I hurt myself or the people aroud me._

_And I cried, and cried into Gawain's shoulder, and Guenevere's. What a woman, gods bless her. What a dear, dear friend. A good queen. A noble woman. A fierce warrior. A loyal wife. Everything I was not._

_And then Gawain fell ill with a fever, brought on by an infected wound. Galahad tried to keep me away, and I was hurt... and puzzled. For why would I not be aloud near one of my dearest friends in his time of need?_

_So he reluctntly let me in the room. And what did I find out?_

_Gawain professed his love for me, angrily for he knows I shall never love again._

_Dear gods I felt terrible. I had cried into his shoulder for Tristan... for Tristan's and my child... And it was like I had taunted him, letting him pull me into his lap, him being so close, yet so far._

His eyes were full of self-loathing, of pain. He saw it in my eyes... I knew. Ah! Ye gods! I turned to flee, but he weakly caught my arm.

"I'm sorry," he murmered.

"No," I said gently. "I am sorry. I caused you pain. I cried onto your shoulder for Tristan. No Gawain, 'tis me who should be sorry." I handed him a cup of water to drink and he accepted it.

He nodded slightly... stiffly, and he refused to meet my eyes. I knew I had infuriated him. I stood there for ten, nerve wrackingminutes, and then...

"What are you doing her still!" he demanded. "Go! Get out!" Gawain roared.

"Gawain, I-" The cup of water that he'd been drinking a moment ago few at me, and I had to duck, barely missing being clobered in the face by the flying cup. It shattered with a thwap, and I knew in the same instant, our friendship would never be the same.

I, unfortunately, started to cry, the exact thing he wanted at that moment. "I'm s-" I sniffed.

"GET OUT!" he yelled at me. I fled, closing the door behind me quietly.

Galahad glanced up at me as I went by. Bors did too, and even his face had turned red with embaressment. "Could have seen that one comng," he muttered to Galahad.

I bawled as I fled.

They tell me that later, after I'd fled, Gawain had stumbled out, his hair wild, and his eyes tortured and weary with life, demanding where I'd gone.

It'd took him hours to find me in his state.

I sat on Hadrian's Wall, legs dangling over the side, heedless I could fall and break my neck. Gawain hated me, Tristan was dead, our daughter was dead, Lancelot was dead, Gareth was dead, what was there to live for?

I heard him coming long before he spoke.

"Adrina." I didn't turn around. "Adrina, I-" his voice cracked. I finally spun around, sniffing. My eyes were red and swollen, my nose blotchy; I knew I must have looked terrible.

"How dare you!" I hissed. "I never knew. You know I thought of you as a brother, a dear friend. How dare you blame me, take this out on me! It's not my fault," I whispered to myself, rocking sideways, back and forth. By then he must have realized I was not only talking about him, but Tristan's death and the death of our daughter too. To anyone but him, I would have looked like I was going mad. "I'm sorry," I finally muttered.

He sat down beside me, and stroked my hair out of my face. I bit my lip, unsure. Then I knew what I had to do. "Come to my room tonight, Gawain." He pursed his lips, knowing full well what I intended and why. Then he slowly nodded in agreement. I got up and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, a kiss full of promise.

I approachd Guenevere, in hopes she would apply makeup for me.

"Adrina, Adrina," she murmered, stroking my hair.

"I must!" I cried. "I must do this. No, donot think to dissuade me." She finally nodded.

"Come."

She lined my eyes with kohl, applied red rougue to my lips. I dressed in my best chamber gown, and let Guenever artfully arrange my dark hair. She kissed my cheek. "Good night."

Gawain came in, closing the door behind me, quietly, and locked it. I sat with my back to him, and for a moment I closed my eyes, a singular tear managing to squeeze its way out. I then stood up.

"Adrina, are you sure you want to do this? I would understand. I mean, I know you still love Tristan and I-"

"Shhhh..." I put my finger to his lips. "Tristan shan't be a part of tonight." I slipped off the dress. It was down to my stomach. It caught for an instant, then continured its decen. I stepped out of it as naked as the day I was born. I closed the last couple of inches between us and kissed him. His beard tickled my face, just like- NO! I pushed thoughts of my lover out of my mind. This night was Gawain's and mine.

* * *

As I watched his finally peaceful face as he slept, I knew this had been worth it. Tristan would forgive me; I was only trying to help a fellow knight of his be at peace and ease my own guilt. Yes, he would forgive me. 

Gawain stirred and opened his eyes slightly. I sat up and leaned over, and kissed his cheek.

"Now we are even. Go back to sleep," I told him. I got up and ressed, grabbing a dagger for safety and sat on Hadrian's Wall in the dark playing with my dagger. It would not long.

She hissed, wanting blood, to spill it, to bathe in in it. I stroked the sharp edge, watching with a sad, sickening delight as blook welled up. "Not long," I murmered to her. Not long.

_My heart had finally and totally disappeared. Who was this Adrina? A sad, broken woman, the fight gone out of her? A woman who was lover to a dead man. A woman who was motherof a dead daughter. A woman who was a memeber of a vanquished tribe. A woman who was daughter to dead parents._

_I packed my armor, my weapons, and a few days worth of foood. I bid everyone goodbye._

_It was freezing. Oh! I hated winter! But it didn't matter, I'd only be alive for a couple more days._

_I trudged on for nine days; I ran out of food on the sixth._

_It took me forever to find a band of Saxons._

_It was a long skirmish, but I killed them, and in the end I'd gotten what I wanted: I was mortally wounded; there was no going back.._

_As I lay dieing in the snow, bleeding my life's blood away, my life lashed before my eyes. My life with Tristan... and King Arthur's knights of the Round Table._

_As I breathed my last breaths, I was utterly and totally alone... and scared._

_I will not be remembered. My love of Tristan not recorded. My life's deeds will be forgotten, for I am not Isolde, who's story is truly tragic. I am not Elaine, who loved Lancelot 'till she died. Nor am I Guenevere, wife to the greatest king Britain will ever see. No, I will not be remebered in history... my story will not be passed down thru the ages, but it does not bother me._

_And as everything started to darken, I swore I heard a hawk cry._

**_Hear me  
Hear me  
Hear me_**

Fin. Now please review. Cookie?

Priestess


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